


Unexpected

by turquoisetacos



Category: The Witcher
Genre: Other, i dont wanna spoil it lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turquoisetacos/pseuds/turquoisetacos
Summary: Geralt gets a giant surprise!





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MISA! :D this was a really fun little au/canon divergence, and i wanted to turn it into a megafic but i also didnt SO if you want to write more in this universe, the fic is yours! i have headcanons for you at the end

  
Rain beat upon the weak roof of the tavern, some 70 furlongs north of Ban Gleàn. Geralt sat in a corner with a mug of mead, as far as he could get from the peasantry, drunk and reeking of cheap swill; the only kind they could afford.

He found himself exceptionally irritable this night, having spent the day hunting a particularly elusive vampire and getting nowhere, a contract he’d picked up on the way to Kaer Morhen for the winter. A contract he almost regrets taking. Despite this, it was still better than camping under a tree or in a cave and cuddling Roach for warmth, using her saddle as a cushion. The tavern didn’t have nearly as many bugs and rodents.

Outside was the sound of horses and human footsteps, far enough that only Geralt could hear. As they drew closer, the peasant folk began whispering speculations and grabbing anything that could possibly be used as a weapon if the need arose. Not that they had any idea who or what was approaching, but as wise folk have always said, better safe than sorry; better paranoid than dead.

A hooded figure entered through the creaky door, followed by two others, but who were clearly bigger. Geralt focused his hearing and picked up the sound of daggers and swords rustling in belts, and movement of leather armor. The hood in front almost hid a glimpse of emerald colored eyes and a delicate face.

“Wolf,” stated a voice he knew he’d heard before. A strand of sparkling ashen hair peeked out from under the fabric.

“Lioness,” he replied in kind, with a voice made more gravelly by the drink. “Forgive me, but, why are you here?” He stole an imploring look into her eyes, confused as to why the Lioness, Queen Calanthe of Cintra, stood before him wearing a hood in a dusty tavern in the middle of nowhere.

She avoided his gaze. “I trust you remember our… agreement from Pavetta’s betrothal banquet.”

“Not something I could easily forget. The surprise child should’ve been born by now, how’s he doing? And how did you find me?”

“I have my resources. As a queen, I have to.” She paused. “As for the other question…. See for yourself.”

The queen signalled to one of her guards to bring her the basket, which Geralt had failed to notice until this point. She took it gingerly before handing it to the witcher.

“This…. this is Pavetta’s child?” He already knew the answer though. The babe was wrapped in a wool blanket and fox skin, staring up at him with sparkling emerald doe eyes. It wasn’t afraid of him like most small children were; instead, it looked at him with awe, studying his hardened facial features and his cat-like pupils.

Calanthe nodded. “We have reason to believe she’s being hunted.”

Geralt reeled. “Hunted already? And… _she_?”

Calanthe scoffed playfully. “The Law of Surprise doesn’t determine the sex of a child. Besides, you’re already bound. But…. there are political issues. And plenty of things that I can’t tell you for the safety of us both. With the recent death of her parents, we’re compromised and have cause to believe that people are already after her.”

Geralt furrowed his brow. “Why can’t you tell me? How am I supposed to know how to protect her if I don’t even know what I’m protecting her from?”

A hand tapped on Calanthe’s shoulder. “It’s safer for both of us this way. I must go. Trust your instinct.” She began to walk away, but turned her heads towards him at the door. “You’ll figure it out, Witcher. I have faith in you.”

The door wasn’t heavy enough to slam shut. Geralt stared at the child, who was still examining him. He didn’t even know her name. He hadn’t a single idea as to how he would take care of a child; none of the boys brought to Kaer Morhen ever had fewer than seven summers. None of the women he’d been with had ever gotten the chance to demonstrate their knowledge of infant care. Most saw it only as a necessary burden. Aside from….

 _Yennefer_.

Though their last encounter had quite a frigid ending, she was the only person he trusted with such a matter. Besides, she’d always wanted a child of her own; maybe, just maybe, this could bring them back together… _Snowball's chance in Hell._ But what choice did he have?  
Still, it was just after midnight, and after a long day, Geralt needed rest before setting off to Vengerberg. Which would’ve been easy enough, aside from the fact that he now had to worry about taking care of this small child between that moment and the second he stepped into Yen’s home. This was possibly the only instance in which a human’s skill exceeded his, since, as an infertile monster slayer, he’d never gained any experience in this area.

Geralt approached the bar, basket in arms. “Hey, Innkeep. Can I ask a favor?”

He hesitated and looked at him suspiciously, but apparently gave way. “Sure, as long as it's within reason.”

“It’s gonna sound a little weird but do you have a wife? Maybe a sister or… I don’t know, anyone who knows how to care for an infant?” Geralt nearly pleaded.

“Er… Aye, I do. Ye look like you’re in quite the fix, I think my Njada should be in the cellar…” Geralt heard hurried footsteps as the innkeep descended. He set the basket of baby on the counter, and noticed a small note peaking out from under her.

 _Geralt,_  
I sincerely apologize for such short notice. The child I’ve left in your care, the child bound to you by fate through the Law of Surprise, has been named Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. As you know, women of our blood, since the time of Lara Dorren, have always carried the potential for exceptional powers. We call this the Elder Blood. After some careful analysis of the family tree, we’ve located an area where both parties possessed this trait. Thus, we believe our tiny Cirilla will develop more and more use of this power as she grows, more than anyone has yet been able to harness.  
People are starting to believe that Ithlinne’s prophecy connects to the Elder Blood. As you can guess, this puts Cirilla’s life in danger, particularly as this theory gains traction throughout the realms. A lot of important people may yet try to harness her power and use it for themselves. We both know that can’t happen.  
Good luck, Witcher. Fare well.

_Calanthe_

Cirilla.

  
A short, well freckled woman with a mousy blond braid greeted Geralt, who responded in kind. “How did you acquire this baby?”

“Her parents died, apparently I’ve been entrusted with her.” Geralt lied. He scratched his head subtly, the only display he’d made of his gut-wrenching anxiety.

“You look more lost than a Nilfgaardian on one of the Skellige Isles. Don’t worry, I’ll show you what you need to know.  
\------

It was a productive night. Near sleepless, but productive. Njada showed Geralt the ropes of childcare, helping him properly change a diaper and feed the little one. Once she deemed him worthy of graduating, she left and Geralt got undressed for bed, but Cirilla wouldn’t have it. She began groaning in her basket, breaking into a loud sob.

“You couldn’t have done this before she left?” he asked, lifting the child and staring at her. “What’s wrong, what do you need? Damn I wish you could speak already.” She continued crying. She stretched her arms out towards the witcher, as if trying to grab him. “What the… Does that mean you want me to hold you?”

Reluctantly, he moved her into his arms and cradled her, bouncing his legs to soothe her. It felt more natural than he expected. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he almost cooed. Within moments, the crying stopped, and she was staring at him with her bright, sparkling emerald doe eyes. He studied her smooth face; delicate nose, plush lips, adorably chubby cheeks. He could tell she’d be beautiful as she grew up, breaking plenty of hearts along the way. Geralt could’ve sworn he was feeling an emotion he’d never felt, even throughout his near century of existence. The closest thing he’d ever felt was with Yennefer but… that was different. His heart had never felt so warm and full, a feeling he didn’t even think witchers could experience. His throat began to ache strangely, almost as if it wanted to… swell or something, but couldn’t. He found himself wrapping his arms tighter around the girl, as if to protect her from everything outside himself.

  
Very slowly, she began drifting off into a peaceful slumber in his embrace. She almost looked even cuter while asleep, vulnerable but content. Geralt almost wanted this moment to last forever, but knew his arms would tire and he still needed sleep.

  
He knelt down to put her in her basket, wrapping her in the blankets she’d been delivered with. As soon as he took his hands away, Cirilla’s large eyes shot open, in a look he swore was a glare. “Dammit,” he sighed, picking her up again.

  
He wrapped her up in a swaddle, and fell asleep on his right side with his arm draped over her, holding her close. She snuggled as tightly to his chest as she could, barely visible under the thick bear hide blanket.

  
\----

  
In the young hours of the misty morning, Geralt and Ciri rode off for Vengerberg, well equipped with at least a few days of Baby Stuff. Contrary to his expectations, the ride was peaceful and went off without a hitch, aside from the stops they had to make for feeding and diaper changes.

  
The pair arrived in Vengerberg just before midnight, riding up to the apartment he remembered the enchantress living in a few years back. He prayed to all the gods he didn’t believe in that she’d help with the child, at the very least, knowing where to send her. In the back of his mind, he hoped she’d consider taking him back, but more than anything, he hoped that it wouldn’t be Istredd who answered the door when he knocked.

  
Geralt had to keep his heartbeat from speeding up as footsteps approached the door, but he couldn’t keep time from slowing down as it opened. Ebony curls revealed themselves, sitting atop a silk robe of the same color. Tired violet eyes widened, staring back at Geralt in astonishment. Time stopped. Her pale face was clear of makeup, but she almost looked more beautiful than he remembered. He breathlessly watched a full spectrum of emotions flicker across her face as they surfaced. Her face flushed with a warm glow and her eyes dampened, a sight so lovely that not even Dandelion would ever find words to describe it.

  
The witcher reluctantly broke the silence, clearing his throat. “Hey, Yen.”

  
“Geralt,” she breathed out, bringing his attention to the fact that she’d been holding her breath. “What are…. what are you doing here?”

  
“Uh. I’ve got a bit of a problem, and it’s a really long story.” He lifted the basket to hand to her, watching her suspiciously take it from him, looking at him in skeptical confusion. “It’s better if I don’t try to explain it.”

  
Yennefer furrowed her brows. “Well, you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Come inside, I need to learn about this problem of yours if I’m to help.”

  
She led him to her workshop, setting the basket on the desk beside some scattered crystals and empty vials. Delicately, she began to unpack the makeshift carrier, eyes widening.

  
“Geralt, this is a….” she stammered.

  
“A baby? I know.”

  
“How did you…?”

  
“Read the note.”

  
The mage pulled the note out from beside the child, reading it intently. “Cirilla…. So this is your Surprise Child?” she asked after a moment's’ pause, eyes like saucers.

  
Geralt nodded. With his precarious situation, he had no idea what to think or how to feel. He was a witcher, he wasn’t supposed to deal with pesky things like emotions. Those had reportedly been mutated away during the Trials. Unfortunately, they never taught about childcare in any of the witcher schools. There was a reason witchers were made sterile.

  
“She’s…. she’s beautiful.”

  
He nodded again in agreement. “I know how much you always wanted a kid,” he mumbled. He could feel his voice trembling slightly, but he hoped Yennefer wouldn’t notice. “I don’t know what to do with her. I didn’t think I’d be in this situation so soon, and you were the only person I could think of to help.”

  
Yen looked wistfully into his eyes, a few tears working their way onto her lashes. Before he knew it, she’d wrapped him up in a tight embrace, thin arms wrapped around his skinny waist, and he knew that she was willing to put aside any and all quarrels they may have had for this baby. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her, one hand feeling the smooth fabric of her robe and the other was stroking her soft locks of carbon black hair.

  
“Geralt, I’m keeping her,” Yen softly declared.

  
The witcher chuckled. “Fine by me.” Originally, he wasn’t sure how she’d react. He was afraid she’d think he was mocking her and her unwanted infertility, or that she’d never want anything to do with him again and drive him off by raining lightning on him, or otherwise use magic to torture him. Not that he doubted her love for him, but he did doubt her ability to keep her desire for wrath under control if he’d managed to piss her off.

  
Cirilla broke out in a wail.

  
“I’ll let you deal with this,” Geralt said.

  
\-------

  
They managed to get the infant to sleep after a meal and a diaper change. Yennefer cradled Cirilla in her arms, and sat beside Geralt on the plush sofa.

  
“She’s a child of the Elder Blood, right? A descendant of Lara Dorren?”

  
Geralt shrugged. “I guess, I didn’t really understand much and Calanthe didn’t stick around to explain.”

  
Yen paused before speaking with slow calculation. “Do you realize what this means?”

  
“No. What is it?”

  
“Geralt…. She could be a Source.”

  
He stayed silent, absorbing the information. “You really think so? She could have natural magic capabilities?”

  
She nodded. “I’d probably have to look more into her family tree, but yes. You’ve seen for yourself, these women have incredible powers. Ones that could easily be dangerous if left out of hand.”

  
“So then you’d train her to be a sorceress?” Geralt snarled.

  
“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch before I’ve explained. I’d only train her enough to stay in control, the rest I’ll leave up to her. Besides, you agreed that I can have her. It’s not like you know what to do with her.”

  
He huffed. “Yeah but she was mine first.”

  
“Do you have a better idea then?”

  
“I’d probably take her to Kaer Morhen or the Temple of Melitele.”

  
“And have her become a witcher or a priestess who can’t think for herself?”

  
“No, I’d just give her the training to defend herself from all these people that apparently want her. The Temple would just keep her off the map, and I know Nenneke would protect her.”

  
“So you’d do what I plan to? Or put dear Nenneke in danger?”

  
“Yen, I-”

  
“I have a proposition for you.”

  
Geralt furrowed his brows. “What kind of proposition?”

  
“Here, hold Cirilla. I’ll get us some wine and we can discuss it.” He took the child and swaddled her, setting her down in her basket.

  
The sorceress returned with an ornate, dark green bottle and two elegant glasses. She always had a taste for luxury. Once full, she handed him one.

  
“Hmm, this is good. Where did you get this? I’ve never had anything like it.”

  
“It’s spiced wine, imported from Skyrim. It’s quite far, may as well be a different world. I doubt you’ve ever heard of it, let alone been there. Regardless, it was expensive. Rather, would’ve been if portals weren’t so convenient,” she smirked.

  
“You’re right about me never hearing about it.” He took a long sip. “So what’s this proposition you have for me?”  
“Well. We both seem to have plans for this Unexpected Child, despite only having just met her. I digress.” Yen paused, inhaling deeply. “I propose… We keep her. Raise her… together.” She had an indecipherable look in her violet eyes. They weren’t cold and concealing like usual; she almost looked… desperate, cooperative… affectionate?

  
Geralt was speechless for a moment. Did he really want to raise a child? Did he really want to get back together? _Hah. As if I could refuse her. Her and her sharp wit. Her exquisite face (and body). Her power. Everything about her._ After all, his last wish kept them bound by fate. Even if he did say no, how long would it last?  
“Even when you’re giving me a choice, I still don’t have a choice,” he chuckled lightly, “just like always when it comes to you.”

  
She glared slightly despite the smile on her face. “Was that a roundabout way of saying yes?”

  
Geralt grinned and nodded. “Does that mean… we’re….”

  
Yennefer answered by pressing her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck. The witcher placed a hand on her hip, while the other caressed the small of her back, an attempt to draw her closer. She pulled him tighter, parting her lips slightly to invite him in. One of his hands began to wander, finding it’s way under her soft and delicate silk robe and up her thigh.

  
The moment was ruined when the child burst into a sob. Yen and Geralt pulled away from each other, as if to ask which one of them would deal with the problem.

  
The witcher focused his senses and sniffed. “Dammit, I think she needs a diaper change.”

  
“You can deal with it this time,” Yennefer smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SOME HEADCANONS
> 
> -yen teaches her some magic  
> -they move to kaer morhen in like 8 years and begin ciri's sword training  
> -lambert teaches ciri how to do really good impressions of everyone  
> -when he gets really pissy, she does an impression of him and all the witchers laugh as he chases her around the keep with a frying pan swearing hes gonna whoop her  
> -the nickname ciri comes about when yen is trying to teach her how to say "cirilla" but all she can say is "ci-ri"  
> -she learns to eyeroll at age 1 and geralt blames yen and when she denies it, he rolls his eyes and shes like "damn maybe its YOUR fault"  
> -also she picks up geralts infamous arm crossing and does it with lots of exaggeration as a toddler  
> -she wants to be just like her parents because shes precious and loves them


End file.
